


The Wrote and The Writ

by ZippyZapmeister



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Diary/Journal, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I Will Go Down With This Ship, as soon as the clock strikes midnight im all for the angst and sad shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 05:14:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7561783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZippyZapmeister/pseuds/ZippyZapmeister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Words really aren't that powerful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wrote and The Writ

**Author's Note:**

> I'M FUCKING YELLING THE TAG ON MY OTHER MITAMA/DWYER STORY (Is It Time Yet?) GOT SUBMITTED TO AO3TAGOFTHEDAY
> 
> I'VE BEEN CALLED OUT LMAOOOOOO
> 
> anyway here's angst. sorry for crapping this out

Nobody ever seemed too daunted by death. It was a war, after all. Even spouses, children, cousins shed a tear and moved on. Mitama was oblivious to the fact, having never experienced the death of someone close to her. However, when she looked for Dwyer after the last march, when she found out that he had been fatally wounded by an arrow meant for the man he was healing, when everyone _turned their heads like it was nothing_ , she went crazy.

She was not so overtaken by grief as to not consider the fact that not everyone was as well-acquainted with Dwyer as she was, not everyone knew him as well as she did. Mitama knew that many saw Dwyer as that apathetic healer with the stoic butler as a father. In a way, she still thought of him like that, too. However, she saw that depth to him that no one else did. She knew about the fears that he always tried to hide. She knew about how, much more than he wanted to out-do his father, he wanted to bond with him and impress him.

At first, she was glad that nobody else knew that side of him. Mitama felt as if the fact that only _she_ knew that sensitive, fearful side of him only strengthened their love, because she was the only one he could expose himself to. But after his death, she wanted people to know. She wanted people to miss him. But to most, it was just the death of a soldier. It irritated her that his life mattered so little. He wasn’t _like_ the others, he wasn’t just some casualty. He was special.

 _Was_.

* * *

 

Not even twenty-four hours after Dwyer’s death, Mitama had gotten in a fight. It was with Shigure.

Both Dwyer and Mitama respected Shigure greatly and valued him as a friend (even though he could be quite impersonal at times). Of course, he was Dwyer’s brother, so Dwyer shared a bond with Shigure that Mitama could not rival; however, Mitama did think Shigure was really cool. Mitama could relate to him when they discussed the importance of the arts. She also owed Shigure greatly on her and Dwyer even getting together. Shigure had to coax Dwyer into confessing his love, which led to them courting.

Mitama never would’ve thought he was a traitor.

A traitor, a traitor, a traitor.

Mitama had nobody else to go to except Shigure. She thought she could _trust_ him. Maybe, in hindsight, she could have walked away. Dwyer would’ve wanted her to. _He would have told me that it took too much energy to pick a fight, but I would know that he just didn’t want me to get in trouble_ , Mitama thought later, as she sat, healing a bleeding Shigure.

The first sign was probably what Shigure said to Mitama when she collapsed into tears. Mitama was probably overthinking it, but “this creates more work for you as a healer, you're going to have to step it up” wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She didn’t care about the fucking wounded, she didn’t care about the dead, the alive, the in-between, the “good” gods above that had taken her Dwyer from her; why would she care about that?

What caused Mitama to punch Shigure and continue to punch Shigure was when he put his arm around her.

After she cleaned him up, she realized that she was really just looking for a reason to vent. She could’ve beaten up a training dummy. She could’ve screamed into her pillow. She could’ve done anything, but she decided to rearrange Shigure’s face because of a friendly gesture. Mitama knew, deep down, that it was just supposed to be comforting, but all she could think about was all of the people who forgot about Dwyer, who brushed him off as another corpse on the field; the first thought that came to her mind was that not only did Shigure feel the same way as the others, but he was low-down enough to _steal_ his brother’s girlfriend before his soul could fully raise from his cold, dead body.

Shigure never told a soul about their little tussle (it could hardly be called that; like a true gentleman, Shigure didn’t dare hit her back, instead choosing to defend himself and restrain her); however, Mitama vented to her father out of guilt. She wasn’t even sure about anything anymore. She needed the cool, refreshing blue of Dwyer’s hair to sway her volcano to return to its slumber, but all she could see, feel, was _fire_.

Azama did not say much. He told her to control herself and focus on her job. After a short pause, he told her that he would be right back and left Mitama’s room.

But, he didn’t come back. Instead, after about twenty minutes, _Azura_ came. Mitama immediately turned away.

 _What a joy. The mother of my dead boyfriend, as well as the kid I just beat up yesterday._ Mitama and Azura weren’t too close. Dwyer told her not to worry about it, she was aloof in general. That seemed to be the family trait. Dwyer, on the other hand, was close with both of Mitama’s parents. Azama was always calling Dwyer his son, and Setsuna was always eager to try one of Dwyer’s herbal teas after harming herself in some way or another.

“Did my father tell you to come here? I’m not apologizing,” Mitama said, sounding more prickly than she meant to. Actually, no. She meant to sound prickly. What the hell did _Azura_ want?

“Your father did tell me to come here, and he told me what happened with you and Shigure, but I didn’t come for an apology. If Shigure wants an apology, he can come get one. He’s a bit too old to have his mommy running around chasing bad guys for him.” Azura said.

It was obvious that Azura was joking, but Mitama retorted, “And I’m the bad guy, _right_? Of course.”

“...Listen, Mitama,” Azura sighed. Mitama felt the bed shift under the weight of another person, and Mitama whipped her head around. Doing her best to ignore her, Mitama tried to craft a poem in her head. _Who dares to perch on...no, that doesn’t work. Another person...sitting on my resting place...I can’t think of anything else. Gods, what’s happening to me?_ Azura frowned at Mitama’s spacey expression, and Mitama made an impatient hand gesture for Azura to continue. “Right. Mitama, I know you feel alone. But I miss Dwyer too. Jakob, Shigure and I started going through his room, and it hurts just to see his belongings...even so, we thought that you might want to help-”

“He wouldn’t have wanted that. He would’ve hated that!”

“We both know that it must be done. We can’t leave his things in a castle room for no reason,” Azura argued. “I can tell by your tone of voice that you don’t want to help. That’s fine. However, earlier today, I found something that I thought you might want.”

Mitama looked down at Azura’s outstretched arms. It was a medium-sized tome, black and non-descript. Mitama gently took it; it had to be treated carefully, if Azura was right and it was something of Dwyer’s. It looked like… “A journal? Dwyer never told me he kept a journal.” Mitama flipped through, just grazing over the words, and it sure looked like Dwyer’s handwriting. It wasn’t filled up too much. It definitely had sentimental value, but… “Why would you give this to me?”

“Me and Jakob care about you, whether you know it or not. Dwyer loved you, and in turn, Jakob and I do as well. Shigure, too,” Azura said. She looked as if she didn’t want to say it, but Mitama knew that that didn’t make the words untrue. “If I ever feel like mourning with another, I can go to Jakob or even Shigure. I understand that you don’t have anyone, so I thought this would make things better, at least a little. I know it won’t fix everything, but it’s a start. Besides, I read the first page. It seems as if all he talks about is you.”

Mitama felt her heart constrict. It would feel wrong reading his thoughts like that, but...she had to know what he thought about her. What he _really_ thought. She was sure that he loved her, but she had to know what he said when she wasn’t around, when nobody was around.

Mitama choked out a “thanks”, and as soon as Azura left the room, she opened up to the first page.

  


**6/17**

 

Words really aren’t that powerful. You can’t ever proved they were said. They leave your lips and then they’re gone. Even when you write them down...who cares? You can burn the paper or tear it up, and then the words don’t matter.

Mitama always talks about how great words are and how much they mean to her. We’ve had a couple of friendly debates about it and I’ll maintain the stance that they’re irrelevant. She still keeps bringing it up, though, telling me to try writing a poem and seeing what comes to me. News flash, Mitama: I can write about the wind on the back of my neck until my hands cramp, but there are still going to be things more important than words. Even still, I’m not too prideful to admit that I’m a sucker for her and I’ll do pretty much whatever she asks me to (here I am pouring out secrets on the first page!). So maybe I’ll try this wordy thing out. No poems, though. I’ll just talk about stuff I see and write in this old thing each night.

 

**6/19**

 

I skipped a day because I can’t think of anything. This is difficult and tiring. What is there to write about? How does she do this all the time? I want to ask her for a topic, but I don’t want her to know that I’m trying this…

Something interesting did happen the other day, though. Mother told me I had a nice voice. Shigure did, too. He sounded like a proud dad. Father’s voice isn’t bad either, but his voice has a lot more bass to it. Mother’s said mine was...soft, like something that could sing someone to sleep.

I wonder if Mitama likes lullabies. Whatever, it’s nighttime now. You have no idea how much trouble I would be in if I snuck into her room to ask. Besides, she’s on the other side of the castle, and I’m so tired...

 

**6/20**

 

Today, Mitama and I were about to rest a little (in one of the prison cells! Of all places, that’s where she wanted to nap?! It was soothing in there, though.) when I began to sing an old lullaby I picked up somewhere. She looked surprised, and then she began to laugh. I felt like an idiot, so I just said sweet dreams and closed my eyes.

Then she asked me why I stopped, and I sung her to sleep. I never want Mitama to see this, ever, but Mitama, if you do, just know that you snored. I’ve never seen you snore. Is that good or bad?

 

**6/21**

 

I asked your dad if you snored, and he said only when you’re really, really, really sound asleep. Did I bore you or was my singing relaxing? Ugh. I’m too scared to ask you.

Wait, wait, when did this become in second person? No, this is a journal. I didn’t even mean for this to become a long letter to you. It feels a lot less professional this way, though. Less like a chore and more like something that makes me happy. Now I can say to you all of the things that I didn’t want to say before. None of that super emotional stuff, though.

 

**6/22**

 

Gods, why are you working as a healer when you can land punches like it’s nothing?!

I asked you if my singing bored you, and you punched me in the arm and told me to shut up and keep singing. Shut up, but also keep singing? Make up your mind. I asked my mother why women are so indecisive, and she said that I shouldn’t generalize. She’s right; only you’re that flip-floppy.

Your birthday’s coming up soon. You keep telling me not to go to the trouble to get you anything, but immediately after I mention your birthday, you complain about your quill falling apart and talk about the gorgeous one you saw at the market and how whoever has that quill must be really lucky.

Subtle! Well, I’ve got something for you: I’m gonna speculate, out loud, about what I’m going to get you for your birthday, but say anything but the quill. I’m gonna get it for you, but why not mess around a little?

 

**6/23**

 

That was short-lived. As soon as I mentioned getting you new hair-ties, you snapped and said “Dwyer, I want a new quill!” Then you asked me if I had hit my head, how could I be so dense? Come on, Mitama. You’re so tiny and...actually really cute. It’s not fair that you got angry at me for having a little laugh when you started pummeling me.

I told you I’d think about getting you the quill, just to keep you on your toes. Now one of my favorite pillows is missing. Whatever, I’ll see it in three days when you get the quill. I saw you using my pillow during our nap but I didn’t say anything. Not because I’m threatened by you. I just know I’m getting it back.

But you are pretty threatening.

Oh, I forgot to mention, I had a dream about you. Since this is for my eyes only (even though I'm writing it to you), I think I can safely say what it was. Well, it was one of those dreams. I felt so gross when I woke up. Thinking about you like that seems so wrong. You looked gorgeous, though. It wasn't anything too perverted. You were just...naked. I can't remember too much about it. Sometimes dreams just slip right from your memory...

 

**6/24**

 

Gods, that quill was expensive! I had been saving up ever since you mentioned it about a month ago, but I still had to ask my mom for a couple of gold pieces to cover it. How embarrassing. She was nice about it, though.

I saved your mom from a hole today. She asked me when we’re having grandkids. That made me think, and the dream did too. I considered us having our first time on your birthday. But that would seem rude, wouldn’t it? I mean, it always seems as if males want that more than women do. Wouldn’t it seem cocky of me to try and do it on your birthday? I feel like it would sound like “hey, your birthday gift is me, lucky you, right?”

I’ll ask Shigure what he thinks.

 

**6/25**

 

Shigure told me to ask you what you thought. That sounded foolish to me at first, but we can both be pretty blunt, so why not do it now, too? So, I just asked if you thought that tomorrow would be a good day.

You turned as red as the lava that comes from your so-called volcano. Then you said “finally you asked about it”, said yes, and asked if you were still getting the quill as a present.

I peeked over at your tablet and saw you writing something about lust. I also saw you talking to Caeldori and you looked like you were taking notes, like she was giving you advice. Based off of what I know about Caeldori…

Tomorrow is going to be interesting. My heart is pounding and I feel kind of warm. I need sleep.

 

**6/26**

 

I can never look at my mom again. Never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever ever ever ever! Oh my gods, Mitama, I told you we should’ve waited until they were asleep! Who does it in the middle of the day, anyway? Insane people, that’s who!

Mitama. My hand was on your bosom. My mom saw me with my hand on your chest! She looked as if she would faint!

Mom told my dad, my dad told Shigure, Shigure told Caeldori, Caeldori told Kiragi, and the whole thing spun out of control...now your dad is giving me funny looks.

I’ve got a haiku for you, Mitama:

 

Not in the daylight! 

My mother is going nuts. 

Let’s wait ‘til marriage. 

 

**6/27**

 

I had a nightmare last night. Your dad was trying to kill me. That's pretty much all it was. 

Well, at least you’re enjoying the quill. You’ve been writing like a madwoman. Your eyes look so pretty when they’re laser-focused. They usually look so sleepy, but when you’re writing...they’re so sharp. They look so...I don’t know.

Today my mom said you were a nice girl, but she’s not sure how much of a mother you’d make. I heard Father mumbling “Uncle Shigure...Grandma Azura...Grandpa Jakob…” like he was testing them out or something. Shigure won’t look at me without blushing.

I think you’d make a great mom. Would I be a good dad, though?

Hold on, just a second! You never gave me back that pillow that you stole from me right before your birthday! Ugh. I’ll let you keep it.

 

**7/7**

 

Accidental hiatus! I forgot about this journal. Just remembered it today, though. Caeldori’s birthday was yesterday. She wanted to have a training session for her birthday (really, what is that girl made of?).

The session was supposed to be a 2-on-2-on-2. Me and you using spears (even though we told Caeldori we have no idea how to use those!) versus Caeldori and Shigure versus Sophie and Shiro. We missed the session because you climbed on top of me and we kissed and kissed and kissed until we fell asleep.

Caeldori was angry, but after you had already stalked off, she told me that she was fine, since it was for true love. She said she felt it, we would be together forever. Also, she did a flower fortune and it said we were soulmates.

Do you think so, Mitama? Do you think we’re soulmates?

 

**7/8**

 

M itama, Mitama. What a girl.

I ’ve never seen a volcano so beautiful.

T ime only furthers my love for her.

A nything she says makes my heart pound.

M aybe that excludes all the times she threatens me with a volcanic eruption.

A nyway, I’m not good at poems.

 

Or, how about

Dwyer

Wants

Y our

E ndless poems

Right by his side.

 

Have you ever heard of that type of poem? An acrostic, where the first letter of each line combines with the other first letters to make a word? It’s all I know how to write. Haikus are difficult, but you do them pretty well. They almost seem humanly impossible.

But then again, you’re not a human, are you? You’re a volcano. Ha.

I don’t even feel like me anymore, Mitama. I’m still tired. I still don’t care about too much. And I’m still, according to you (and my father, and my brother, and my mother, and your father…) stubborn. But I feel softer somehow. It’s because of you, for sure.

I don’t like change. It’s scary and sometimes it can create so much effort and unnecessary work. But I like this change. It makes me feel happy. I love you, Mitama.

 

**7/9**

 

I’m not obsessed with being better than my father. “Obsessed”? Really? You’re obsessed with your stupid poems! At least I’m doing something productive other than writing down meaningless words. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: every word you write is perishable. This argument is all your fault!

 

**7/12**

 

Ugh. I hate being so easily moved by you. One kiss and an apology and I was all over you again. Three days is so long to go without talking to you. I don’t want to ever do that again. Your poems aren’t stupid and I love them.

I made what I thought was the perfect blend of tea while we were apart and you said you liked it. You said it was better than my father’s. Wanna know how I could tell you meant it? You told me that the flavor could be a bit stronger. You criticized it. When I tell people how much I want to beat my father at buttling, at everything, they’ll just tell me how great I am to shut me up.

You’re different.

The flavor will be stronger tomorrow!

 

**7/13**

 

Never thought I would write in this book in the morning. I’m trying to write quickly. There’s a huge wave of Faceless approaching and we’re preparing to depart. You made me tea today! That’s how weird things are. I just want to lay down and sleep. This is too much chaos.

I’ll return the favor and make you some tea after we finish up those Faceless. Time to heal these poor souls so I can go back to bed.

* * *

 

Mitama flipped through desperately, searching for more entries, even though she knew they weren’t there; July thirteenth was the day before, the day that Dwyer had gotten struck by the arrow.

But that couldn’t be all. There had to be more. Dwyer couldn’t just be erased from the Earth, with nothing else being produced by him. He couldn’t just _end._  How could he just _end_?

Mitama hadn’t even realized that Azama was there. He was standing, and he looked down at her with a solemn look on his face. Mitama whispered, “So, this is it? This is all I have now?”

Even Azama was silent. Her whole face felt sore. She wished Dwyer would fix her one of his herbal teas, she wished he would kiss the pain away. “Dwyer wouldn’t want you like this,” Azama said, finally.

The silence that came after that was deafening. What words could she possibly have? Who cared what Dwyer wanted? He left her. And for what, some generic soldier on his deathbed? _No. Mitama, stop it. Dwyer lived for others, and so do you._

“But…” Mitama started, and she choked on her tears. Trying again, she said, “But he would help me through it.”

“I don’t doubt that. I doubt our methods of comforting are the same, but Mitama, I’ll help you however I can.” Azama looked sincere, and even though it wasn’t exactly Mitama’s saving grace, she felt some sort of grip on that cruel, unforgiving world. Azama continued, “So will Azura. And Shigure, and Jakob, and your mother, and Caeldori...countless people, all on your side. None of us are Dwyer and we’re not trying to be, but we love you too.”

“It doesn’t seem real...someone just being erased like that,” Mitama croaked. Her tears were dripping onto the paper of his journal, and she shut it quickly, not wanting to ruin it with her grief.

Azama sighed and shook is head. “So young, so foolish! Dwyer hasn’t been erased from everything. You have a piece of him right there, his journal. You have your memories. You have every poem you’ve ever written for him. You have all of the people that loved him, and all of the people that love you. It feels empty now, but everything’s going to be just fine. I’ll make sure you’re not bothered, but let me know if you feel like having company.”

“Yeah,” Mitama said. She didn’t know what else to say. Dead meant gone, didn’t it? He’d never say he loved her again. He’d never kiss her, he’d never hug her, he’d never marry her, they’d never make love, she’d never see his face as he held their first child. It was all lost.

She wasn’t sure about the memories. With age, with time, and with new memories, it was all-too possible that he would be lost on her.

She wasn’t sure about her poems. After all, they were much less about him and much more about her feelings for him. She wanted _Dwyer_.

She wasn’t sure about all of the people that loved him, and all of the people that love her. None of them truly understood what it felt like to hear him whisper in her ear in his drowsy little voice that she was beautiful, and they never would.

All of those things were not constants. They were not things that Mitama trusted or felt secure within. But beneath her fingertips, she had something that was like a live wire, with one end connected to her heart and the other end connected to Dwyer’s.

His journal.

It felt as if it were pulsing in her hands, or maybe it was just her beating heart. Either way, it made her stomach turn in what was a bad way, but also a good way. Her tears were still sliding down her chin, but she opened the book anyway, and once again, he was right at her side.


End file.
